


Spontaneous Combustion

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-21
Updated: 2003-09-21
Packaged: 2019-04-27 06:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14419569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: Mulder takes care of Scully after a very hot day.





	Spontaneous Combustion

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

Spontaneous Combustion

## Spontaneous Combustion

### by ML

Date: June 24, 2003  
Title: Spontaneous Combustion  
Author: ML  
Feedback: welcomed and adored!  
Spoilers: none  
Rating: NC-17  
Classification: Vignette  
Keywords: MSR, heat, sweat, first time...you get the picture, I'm sure!  
Summary: Mulder takes care of Scully after a very hot day. 

Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. They mostly belong to the actors who portrayed them, but Chris Carter created them, and Ten Thirteen and FOX own the rights. I mean no infringement, and I'm not making any profit from them. But I am forever grateful for their existence! 

Guaranteed 100% sallie-safe. It's salliefic! <g>

* * *

Spontaneous Combustion  
by ML 

After weeks and weeks of gray skies and rain, not to mention unseasonably cold weather, Mother Nature decided to skip spring and go straight into summer. Clouds gave way to sunshine and the temperatures soared close to triple digits, as did the humidity. The high temperature rose thirty degrees in a twenty four hour period. The outside air felt heavy and damp, like swimming through tepid bathwater. 

Scully felt like she was wrapped in a damp, slightly musty washcloth as soon as she stepped outside. She dressed as comfortably as she could and still remain professional: cotton next to her skin, lightweight suits and blouses. There wasn't much she could do about hosiery. She would have worn stockings rather than panty hose but hated garters, and it was hard to find thigh highs for her petite height. They were often too long to fit smoothly, so more often than not she was stuck with pantyhose. 

She and Mulder had spent the day driving from one poorly cooled building to another in a car whose air conditioning was also inadequate to the task. Scully no longer felt like she was wrapped in a washcloth, she felt like she _was_ a wet washcloth. 

It hadn't helped that they'd been forced to stand outside at a couple of crime scenes. Scully was used to the cooler confines of the morgue. She'd been careful to drink plenty of water all day, but the heat seemed to sap her appetite. By the time she was able to head for home, she felt very tired, and had the beginnings of a headache. 

Scully rode up in her stuffy elevator and stepped inside her apartment, groaning with relief as she kicked off her shoes and peeled off her pantyhose. Her apartment was dark, and at least somewhat cooler than the outside air. There was still an hour till sunset, but she'd closed the blinds and curtains in the morning to try and keep the interior as cool as possible without making her electric bill look like the federal deficit. Most of the time, she'd rather be too warm than too cool, but there were limits. 

She shrugged off her suit jacket and hung it up to air, unzipping and stepping out of her skirt and then peeling off her blouse and underclothes. Everything felt damp. The air felt cool on her bared skin and she briefly contemplated running a bath. But the last thing she wanted was to stew herself further, and she opted for a lukewarm shower instead. 

Afterward, Scully stood in front of her closet with her towel wrapped around her in hopes of finding something cool to put on. Tucked way back in the corner, she found the perfect thing. Bill and Tara had sent it from Hawaii for her birthday. It had been snowing outside when she received it, and she'd put it away and forgotten about it. 

Tara must have picked it out; Bill would never have bought her something so...sexy. It was a narrow-strapped shift that barely skimmed her knees. A design of pale plumeria flowers and dark green ti leaves garlanded the background of sea blue fabric. The material was softer than woven cotton, and very lightweight. Scully dropped her towel and shimmied into it. The dress floated down around her body, soft as a whisper against her heated skin. 

She regarded herself in the mirror. Her face was still flushed from the shower and her hair had curled wildly as a result of the humidity. She was barefoot. All she needed was a moonlit beach and a palm tree in the background... 

Scully closed her eyes. The fabric of the dress brushed softly against her thighs and backside. The fabric warmed against her skin and the feel of it was sensual, arousing. The dress brushing against her felt almost like a hand roaming over her body. She felt her nipples tighten as though a hand had caressed them. 

With her eyes still closed, she brought her hands up to cup her breasts, breathing slowly as she imagined her moonlit beach, and the hands of someone else caressing her, his breath on her cheek. She felt her face flush even more at her thoughts. The figure was in shadow, as though she couldn't bring herself to imagine him fully, but she knew who it was. She drew in her breath sharply as her fingers brushed across the tips of her breasts once and then again. Her insides felt molten and she swayed as she imagined... 

...the sound of a siren on the street below her window brought her back to herself, and she shook her head to rid it of wanton thoughts. Thinking that way would do her no earthly good, and besides, it just made her feel hotter, with little possibility of relief. 

It wasn't the first time she'd had a fantasy about her partner, and it probably wouldn't be the last. They'd both danced up to the line on occasion, but neither would cross it. 

It was better that way, anyway. This was just fatigue lowering her resistance. She'd have it under control again soon. 

Ever practical, Scully went to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of iced tea and get some aspirin for her head. At least she had a remedy for some of the things that troubled her. 

She heard the doorbell as she turned away from the refrigerator. A moment later, she heard knocking, and a muffled voice that could only be Mulder. No time to change or do anything but go to the door. If she didn't he'd just unlock it and let himself in, or possibly break it down. His concern was touching, but she couldn't afford to replace another door. 

Sure enough, she could see Mulder through the fisheye lens. She prayed he wouldn't be able to tell that she didn't have anything on under the suddenly too-skimpy dress. She also prayed that she could get rid of him quickly while she still had a shred of dignity. A stray image from her recent fantasy made her blush as she opened the door. 

"Hey Scully." Mulder said as she let him in. "Hot enough fer ya?" He'd taken to adopting this ridiculous accent sometimes ever since their case in Chaney, Texas. 

"What brings you here, Mulder?" Scully asked. He looked like he might have jogged over. He wore a gray tee shirt and running shorts. He smelled clean, though -- like freshly laundered cotton and Ivory soap, with just the lightest scent of sweat to add piquancy. How did he do that? 

And when had she started categorizing his scent like a connoisseur? 

Mulder looked a little nonplused. "We were gonna go over some of the reports tonight, remember? I brought dinner." 

How could she have forgotten that? Without a word Scully stepped out of the way to let him in. He seemed oblivious to what she was wearing, walking past her into the kitchen to set his burden down. 

"I brought deli sandwiches. It's too hot for hot food. And," he said enticingly, "I brought triple-chocolate ice cream for dessert." He held the carton up to show her. 

"Okay," Scully said, at a loss to say anything else. She sneaked a glance down at her front. The pattern of the leaves and flowers helped mask any untoward displays. At least she hoped they did. 

She looked up to see Mulder watching her with an odd expression on his face, but all he said was, "I hope you don't mind that I changed out of the suit. It was like being in a portable sauna." 

She shook her head and put the ice cream away. 

"Nice dress, by the way," he said offhandedly as she turned her back. She was grateful that he couldn't see her face, and that she couldn't see his. 

Dinner passed without incident. They sat at Scully's kitchen table with their picnic dinner and talked about the case. Scully picked at her sandwich, eating the lettuce and tomatoes out of it. She hadn't had much to eat all day, but she seemed to have no appetite. 

Mulder took gargantuan bites of his sandwich and washed it down with gulps of iced tea, talking all the while. He licked the salt off his fingers from the potato chips and Scully sat and watched him. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he chewed and swallowed. She watched his tongue licking the salt from his finger tips and the way his lips wrapped around the iced tea bottle. She shook her head again. The heat must have done something to her brain. She had the feeling she had been just sitting there in a daze, watching Mulder and contributing nothing to the conversation but the occasional "uh huh." 

It wasn't true; she was a little slow on the uptake and her thoughts seemed stuck in a place where they shouldn't be most of the time, but she could still hold her own. 

Trouble was, she'd rather be holding Mulder's... 

<Stop that. Stop it right now.> She shook her head a third time. It made her feel slightly dizzy, though it could have been Mulder's proximity making her feel that way. 

Mulder stopped in mid-sentence. "Scully, are you okay?" He looked her in the eye. With his height advantage, he could look down her front if he wanted to, and suddenly she wanted him to want to. Maybe it was the heat sapping all her will power, but she was tired of the song and dance. They both wanted the same thing, and they were both lying like rugs about it. 

Mulder reached out to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear, and she leaned against his hand briefly. It felt cool on her skin. He felt her forehead. "You're pretty hot, Scully," he remarked. 

Thank you for noticing, Mulder, she thought, then realized what he was talking about. "I'm fine," she said. 

"I'm sure you are, but a lot of people suffered from heat exhaustion today," he said. "I'm serious. You might still be a little dehydrated. You've been acting kind of strange." 

"I've been drinking plenty of water all day today," Scully said. All she wanted to do was lay her head on the table and sleep. She pushed her plate out of the way and did so. The surface of the table was cool and smooth under her cheek. She closed her eyes. 

She was aware that Mulder had gotten up from the table and was rummaging around in her cupboards. She heard glass clinking and water running. Then she felt a cool washcloth on the back of her neck, and Mulder's hand on her shoulder. 

"Scully, I want you to drink this," he said. 

She raised her head without opening her eyes and sipped at the glass she felt at her lips. She almost spit it out. 

"Mulder! What is that?" 

"Warm salt water. You don't have any salt tablets that I can find, and I think you might need it. You have some of the symptoms of salt depletion." 

"Since when are you the doctor?" she asked petulantly, but she recognized that he might be right, and swallowed some of the saltwater. It made her feel a little nauseous. 

"I ran track in school. I remember the signs," Mulder said. "Got any Gatorade?" 

"Ugh." 

"I'll take that as a no. Saltwater it is, then. Come on, lie down on the couch where it's cooler." 

Scully started to get up, but the dizziness returned and Mulder scooped her up in his arms. In a minute she was lying on her couch with the fan pointed at her. Mulder got another cool washcloth and laid it on her forehead. 

"You need to eat something, Scully. Bet you didn't eat lunch today, either." She opened her eyes and saw him sitting crosslegged on the floor, facing the couch. He shook a bag of potato chips at her. "They taste better than salt water," he said. "And if you don't eat something, I'll be forced to take you to the hospital. You know the drill: mean nurses, IVs and all that. I'd rather keep you to myself, but only if you let me help you." 

"Okay," she said, closing her eyes again. She knew the truth of what he was saying. Heat exhaustion was no joke, but this was a minor case and there was no need to go to the hospital. They were no doubt already overtaxed with this heatwave. For once, she'd let Mulder have his way with her. "But I think you're the only one who has trouble with the nurses." 

"You medical types. You always stick together," Mulder complained. 

She felt him move closer to her and heard him tear open the bag. "Open wide," he whispered, and she felt the edge of a potato chip against her lips. She parted them and let Mulder feed her. The salt burned her lips a little and she licked them. She let him feed her most of a bag, alternating with sips of cool water. 

"You're looking better already," Mulder remarked before long. 

"I feel better," Scully said. It was true; the headache was almost gone, and the dizzy feeling with it. She smiled at Mulder, his face creased with concern. "Thank you, Doctor Mulder," she said, and was rewarded by his smile. "Are there any chips left?" 

"Just crumbs, I think," said Mulder, putting his hand in the bag and coming up with the evidence on his fingers. 

"They'll do," Scully said, and she took his hand and began licking his fingers off, one by one. 

Mulder had gone very still as she started this operation. She took her time about it, curling her tongue around each finger in turn. She had closed her eyes but she heard Mulder's sigh as she finished. 

She opened her eyes to see him reach his hand to brush through her hair, incidentally feeling her forehead at the same time. His hand didn't feel as cool this time, and it lingered a moment. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked. 

"Tired," she said, somehow unable to form her usual "I'm fine," with lips that still tingled from Mulder's fingers. 

"You need to rest," Mulder agreed. "Why don't you see if you can sleep a little?" 

"You're not going to leave, are you?" Scully asked. She really didn't want him to go, but she lacked the energy to do anything to make him stay. 

"I won't go, I promise," he said. "I'll stay right here." He kissed her forehead, and this time his touch felt warm. Then he settled himself in the armchair across from the couch. "Go on, close your eyes," he urged gently. 

She was too tired to argue. She closed her eyes and succumbed to sleep. 

x-x-x-x 

Some time later, Scully opened her eyes to the soft sound of the fan whirring. She felt almost cold, but there was a sheet over her which helped somewhat. She stretched luxuriously under it, reveling in the absence of fatigue and headache. She had no idea how long she'd slept, but it seemed to have done the trick. 

Then she realized she wasn't in her bed, but on her couch. And she wasn't wearing anything under the sheet but the little dress, which was now bunched up around her hips. She sat up in a hurry, remembering how she'd gotten there. 

Mulder had left a light on low and she could see him sprawled in the overstuffed chair, sleeping with the abandon of a child. She seldom had an opportunity to see him at rest unless he was recovering from an injury. This was so much better. She indulged herself for a few moments. 

She was quite taken with this view of him. His arms rested on the chair arms, hands and fingers relaxed. His long legs stretched out in front of him on the ottoman. He'd taken his shoes off. He had long, well-shaped feet and the hard-muscled legs of a runner and a swimmer. She spent a long time enjoying the view. 

As if he was aware of her scrutiny, Mulder stirred a bit and the magazine he'd been reading slipped from his chest down his torso, prevented from sliding completely off his lap by what was unmistakably an erection, bulging prominently under his running shorts. 

A flash of heat coursed through Scully at the realization -- and at the memory of Mulder carrying her from the kitchen in her skimpy attire. Not only that, but at some point he'd put the sheet over her. Had it been before or after her dress had hiked up? Had he looked at her the way she was looking at him now? What had he seen? 

More to the point, had he liked what he'd seen? Was his current condition ordinary for Mulder, or was it a response to stimuli? Specifically, was it a response to her? 

The best way to find out, of course, was to test the theory. Very quietly, she got up and tiptoed over to where Mulder half sat, half-lay in the chair. She knelt down and put one hand on his arm, and the other over the bulge in his shorts. 

As soon as she touched him, Mulder's eyes flew open and he sat up straight. Scully snatched her hands back. 

"Scully, what are you doing?" he asked in a hoarse, startled voice. 

Scully sat back on her heels and regarded him. 

"That's not where you usually take a guy's temperature, is it?" he asked. "'Cause if it is, I'm changing my primary care physician." 

He was babbling a little bit, and Scully was charmed by it. She closed her fingers over her palm and the memory of Mulder's heat against it. 

"Speak to me, Scully. You're scaring me a little," he said. 

Instead of replying, she edged a little closer to the chair and looked up at him. If he hadn't figured it out now, or worse yet, if she'd misinterpreted him, it was too late to try and explain. 

For a moment, Mulder looked confused and a little worried. Then a smile began to overtake his features and he reached his hand out to Scully. 

Still without words she clambered onto his lap, straddling his thighs with her knees and pressing against his groin. 

They both jerked a little at the initial contact. Only a few thin layers of fabric separated them from each other. Scully felt further aroused by the thought as well as the feel of his hardness against her already sensitized flesh. She edged back a little, not wanting to end things before they'd properly begun. 

Mulder made a visible effort to slow his breathing and took Scully's face in his hands. "You're feeling okay?" 

Scully nodded. 

"No fever, no headache?" 

She shook her head. 

"Then I must be dreaming," he muttered. "This couldn't possibly be happening." 

In answer, Scully leaned forward and captured his lips with her own. 

After a surprised second or two, Mulder opened his mouth to hers and responded to her demands. They lipped at each other, one sliding over the other, each seeking and tasting. Before long, Mulder's tongue joined the fray and Scully surrendered to him, letting him explore to his heart's content while she clutched him to her, giving her hands license to weave through his hair, to stroke his back and shoulders. His lips were softer than she'd imagined they'd be. They nibbled and sucked and pulled at her mouth, while his tongue traced the inside of her mouth over and over again. She did the same for him, their lips and tongues offering reciprocal pleasure that grew more heated by the moment. 

Mulder's hands left her face to smooth down to her shoulders and then, very slowly, trace the neckline of her dress and down, letting just his fingertips graze her breasts. 

Scully broke their kiss with a gasp and met Mulder's eyes. He still seemed uncertain, and it was unfair not to say something to him. 

"Yes," she said, finding her voice at last. 

He grinned at her. "You're a woman of few words tonight," he said, "but I think I like your sign language." He cupped her breasts with his warm hands and let his thumbs massage her nipples. They were already erect but his touch made them more so. She arched into him, closing her eyes and throwing her head back in abandon. 

Mulder skimmed his hands down to the hem of her dress and began to pull it over her head, stopping in surprise about halfway. 

"Scully," he said reverently, "you're not wearing anything under your dress." 

"You mean you didn't notice when you picked me up and put me on the couch?" she asked. "Or when you covered me with the sheet?" 

"I was doing my best not to notice," he said. "I was trying to be a gentleman." 

"You are," she said. "Even tonight, you waited until you were asked. But you don't have to ask any more." 

Mulder smiled and pulled her dress off the rest of the way. He took a moment to admire her before lowering his mouth to one breast and taking the tip into his mouth. 

Scully felt the flush start where Mulder's mouth touched her and spread from there to the crown of her head and down to her toes. This was a different kind of heat, one that energized rather than enervated her. She leaned back, supported by his hands splayed across her back, and panted her approval. Her hips jerked of their own accord, seeking relief. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on Mulder's shoulders and she took handfuls of his shirt, trying without success to pull it off him. 

"I can't take your clothes off if you're sitting on them," she complained. 

To her regret, Mulder stopped what he was doing and looked up at her, hazy-eyed with joy. 

"Oh," he said in a slurred voice, "yeah. Clothes." He helped her get off his lap and stood up, stripping his shirt off in one fluid motion. He started to pull off his shorts, but Scully stopped him. She knelt in front of him and untied the drawstring, and pulled the waistband of his shorts and boxers down at the same time. 

It wasn't all that often that she saw an erect penis -- or any penis -- up close and personal in this way. By any measure, however, Mulder's was impressive. It bobbed in front of her, hot and ruddy with arousal. There was only one thing to do: she leaned forward and kissed the tip. 

Mulder hissed and his hips jerked toward her. "Hold on hold on hold on," he said rapidly, taking big gulps of air. 

Scully looked up at him. 

"Call me a traditionalist," he said, "but I'd kinda like our first time to be in a bed. I don't want either of us to have rug burns." 

"Such a romantic," she whispered, smiling. 

"And a gentleman," he reminded her. "A gentleman always lets a lady go first," he added, helping her to her feet. "And that's my intention." 

"Do you mean `go' or `come,' Mulder?" Scully asked as he draped his arm over her shoulders and let her lead him to her bedroom. 

Mulder's look of surprise was comical, and his expression when she laughed even more so. 

Once in the bedroom, however, he was all business again. He pulled her tight against him, tilting her head so that he could kiss her, gripping her behind and grinding against her. His erection was trapped against her belly, and he pressed his thigh between her legs, urging them apart so he could feel all of her. Her knees felt weak already, and now they almost buckled at the wave of desire she felt. 

Before she knew what was happening, Mulder had scooped her up in his arms again and placed her on the bed. He lay beside her, hardly pausing in his kisses. His hand roamed freely down her body, finally stopping where she most wanted him to be. She parted her legs a little, allowing him in. He introduced one finger between her folds, just letting it slick up and down. His thumb found the best spot and she nearly arched off the bed when he touched her. 

"Guess I don't have to ask if you're ready," he said cheekily. 

She reached down and grasped his penis, letting her hand run up and down its length as he squirmed. "Guess I don't have to ask you either," she smirked at his grimace of pleasure. "So what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?" 

"Ms. Dana Scully," Mulder recited in a fake accent, "requests the pleasure," as he rubbed his thumb over her clitoris again, "of the company of Mr. Fox Mulder," he flicked her nipple with his tongue, "for cock-tails..." and he pressed against her as he grasped her behind, "...the sooner the better..." 

Scully had started to giggle about halfway through the recitation and now she couldn't stop, burying her head in Mulder's shoulder and shaking uncontrollably. She was still giggling as Mulder rolled between her legs and began to slide into her. 

She no longer wanted to laugh but was suddenly almost deliriously happy. She gripped his shoulders as he pushed in slowly, and wrapped her legs around him. 

Mulder wasn't laughing, either. He had an expression of wide-eyed wonder that she'd seldom seen on his face. It only increased her happiness to think that she was the cause of it. 

Once he was fully inside her, he paused for a moment and looked deep into Scully's eyes. "Thanks for inviting me," he whispered. 

"Thanks for accepting," she said back, and their lips met in an all-consuming kiss as he began to move again, pulling back slowly and thrusting in deeply. 

His hands found hers and twined them together as he braced against the mattress to thrust ever harder, ever deeper. Mulder stole another kiss on each downstroke. Scully felt herself rising up to meet him. She opened her eyes to enjoy the sight of Mulder above her, watching her as well. They smiled at each other, unable to speak through the exertion but communicating perfectly well how they felt. 

Scully squeezed his hands and then reached up to stroke his chest, slippery with sweat. She thumbed his nipples as he'd done to her earlier and was rewarded by a groan and a shudder in mid-thrust. It hardly seemed possible, but he seemed to thicken and harden even more inside her. She felt filled to overflowing with Mulder. She ran her hands down his slick ribcage and over the small of his back, reveling in the feel of his muscles working. She tapped her fingers against his spine, just above his buttocks, and she felt the ripple of surprise and pleasure move through him and into her. 

"Oh, Scully," he managed to say. "What you do to me..." She looked down to see where they were joined, her pleasure spiraling even higher by the view of his cock sliding into and out of her. She felt the sparkling beginning of the end. 

Mulder was really panting now, and she reached between them to stroke a fingernail along his cock, her thumb brushing her clitoris at the same time. A touch or two was enough to trigger her release. It was like a slow fuse. She could feel it sparking along her nerve endings until finally she felt the bloom of heat and sensation explode deep inside and radiate outward. It ignited Mulder, too. She heard his gasp as she held him within her, and felt the pulsing of his cock as he thrust harder and harder, emptying himself, body and soul. 

She gripped him tightly until she could no longer tell her climax from his. She had no awareness outside of herself and Mulder. And Mulder wasn't a separate entity; he was a part of her now. 

It could have been minutes or hours later. She was lying on her back in the cool darkness. Mulder was sprawled on his stomach alongside her, his arm thrown across her waist. 

He opened one eye and grinned at her. "You throw one hell of a party, Miz Scully," he said. 

"It's all in the guest list," she said teasingly. "Very exclusive." 

He made a noise something like a chuckle with all the wind knocked out of it. But even as spent as he was, he reached over to cop a feel, and to check her temperature with a gentle hand to her forehead. 

"Feeling okay?" he asked. "No symptoms of heat exhaustion?" He smoothed the hair off her forehead gently, curling his fingers along her hair and down the line of her jaw to her lips. 

She smiled. "Exhaustion maybe, but not from heat," she said. "How about you?" 

"I'm good," he said, eyes starting to drift closed. 

Yes you are, she thought, but didn't say it out loud. Mulder however seemed to hear it anyway, and he leaned over to kiss her in a way guaranteed to raise her temperature once more. 

"I'd be happy to administer fluids," he murmured in her ear. "Just not right this minute." 

She copped a feel of her own. She felt a stirring as she touched him and they both smiled. 

"I'd settle for some ice cream," she said. 

"'Kay," he said, and started to heave himself out of bed. 

"That's okay, you don't have to go right this minute," she said. 

Mulder collapsed back on the bed and grinned at her. "That's good, `cause I really don't think I can move right now," he said. 

He reached over to pull her closer and in a moment he was flat out asleep. 

Scully smiled and turned toward Mulder. She was sticky and sweaty and felt fatigued again, but nothing like she had earlier. This was a pleasant lethargy, and one she hoped to feel again frequently in the future. In the near future, if she had her way. 

After they had their ice cream, of course. They'd need their strength. 

end. 

just a little hot!smut for sallie, friend and supporter extraordinaire. When the temps get above 100 here, I get inspired...   
  


#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to ML


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